


Your Hand (To Hold)

by acidicmilk



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, no beta we die like men, not tagging it with character death because we all know The Scene, our hearts are compatible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 12:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15364428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidicmilk/pseuds/acidicmilk
Summary: Markus and Simon interface.And then they don't.





	1. Chapter 1

His thoughts are so  _ loud;  _ they vibrate through his limbs, through his entire network, and they make him  **_ache_ ** . He gnaws at his lip, tangles his fingers, pulls at his sleeves,  _ anything  _ to attempt to make it go away, to distract him even if just for a moment. But that’s the problem with being an android, isn’t it? The input is endless. It’s inescapable.

 

They stay trapped inside of him, stay so close to falling from his mouth with no control, always mere seconds away but too scared to fully emerge. They radiate off of him in waves and yet never once escape his person.

 

Sometimes they’re too much-- though they always weigh him down like cinder blocks on his shoulders-- sometimes the angry buzzing beneath his skin becomes so overwhelming that the artificial flesh peels backwards in the most prickling fashion imaginable and it feels as though they  _ scream  _ outwards from his bared exoskeleton. It does so not of his own volition-- it feels as though his insides, the thoughts thrumming through them with such intensity, are trying to desperately to  **_get them out._ **

 

Until one day they do.

 

Until one day Markus sees. He sees Simon’s pearl white fingers clenching and unclenching, sees his LED a bright red at his temple.

 

“Simon?”

 

Markus’ voice, crystal clear through the static in his ears, makes his head jerk upwards in surprise-- and along with everything there’s now  _ fear _ , and he quickly hIides his hand behind his back.

 

_ Please no. _

 

**_I----_ **

 

_ Please just go away-- _

 

“Simon, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

 

He can’t move. He’s so scared and he can’t move. Markus is too close and he’s scared and the Revolution is on their doorstep and he’  _ scared and-- _

 

**_I-------_ **

 

“I’m fine,” he semi-laughs, and it’s as fake as an empty promise. “I’m just. Running some diagnostics. I’m fine. Really,” he clips.

 

“Simon.”

 

He’s never been very good at lying.

 

The skin around his wrist still fluctuates wildly; still fights its way down to his palm only to race up to his forearm and back again, and there’s no hiding it when Markus sits so close to him.

  
  


**_I̙͉̋̈̀̾-̪̮̳̉̒̆-̾ͯ͊ͫ̈́̿ͭ-̸̝̪̯ͩ-̙̖ͨ̇-͎̭̖͙̦̝̜ͧ͗̆ͤ̄͗-̖͛͒̒-̠̤ͤ͋̔̽͡-̴͓̠̲̙͚̭ͬ̋̌ͣ̃-̗̳̘̹̣ͩ͐̉̍-̶̞̬̦̿ͦ-͉͑̋̿̂ͦ̊_ **

  
  


Markus gently takes him by the elbow, touch so gentle and undemanding it makes tears immediately well at the corners of Simon’s eyes and yet he still can’t stop Markus’ movements-- he feels frozen, feels trapped behind a window from the other side of his body.

  
  


**_I̷̥̩̞̤̒̊̒̈́͆ͪ͛̃͢-̡͖̮̙̹͔̭̗̞̍ͩ͗ͭ̿̈-̛̦̖̰̬̜̮̝̟͉̍͛ͧ̂̒͠-̫̤̑̾̾̐-͙͉̙̜͎̝̰̱͛ͯͦ̕͜-̱ͥ̏͋͘͢͟-̠̭̣̭͖̦̘̿ͬͤ͆ͭ-̴̣̼̦̲͖̋̎́̃̎̄̿-̛̟̜̮ͫ͗ͨ̏-͇̾͒͛̇́̃̆̕-̵͇͔̙̼̆̃͆̒͊̏ͨ̀-̤̱̭̭͔̅͒ͦ-̨̘̞̪͚̖̥ͦ̋ͧ̐-̯̫͍̝̻̄̌̀ͫ̈́̓̐͊ͅ-̶̵͕͈͓͇͙̲̲͑̈́ͥ̀͂ͬ̄ͅ_ **

  
  


Markus holds Simon’s arm so that his hand and its endless glitching are forced back into his line of sight, and he feels something akin to  _ shame  _ well up within himself, into his throat, like he’s going to  _ choke  _ on it.

 

The skin on Markus’ hand peels back in such a calm manner, in such stark different to Simon’s own, as if this is the most natural thing in the world between the two of them, and all Simon can manage before he ever so softly presses their fingertips together is a quiet “ _ Please---” _

 

_ “Don’t----” _

  
  


**_I̵̞͓͖̫͍ͬ͒ͯL͖͖͚̾͛̍̀̆͝O͓͇͙͌ͤ͂̈́̔͂̾V̲͆̊̋̍̕E̢̹̯̩͓̬̰͖͙͛Y̰̻̱̲̰̦͚̓̈ͩǪ̯̤̬̐̇ͧU͕̟͙̙̗ͮ͊ͤͩ͡I̴͎̞ͮ̃́͜͞L͂̑͏̥͓̰͕̞̼̳͝O̯̳̬̼̺̟̦͌ͦ̓͌͐̏ͦ̒͘͜Ṽ̝͖͇̹͖̹̒̕Ê̸̙̠̞̻͎̪͒Y̔ͪͧ̒̉́̓͏̣̱̯Ơ̢͓͔͕̩͉̩͎̄͑̿̒̌͘U̧̙͉̝͚͌̅ͩ͊̚͞I̴̳̮̪͖̝͗͆̏̆ͫ̒L̵̬̦̮͖̺̤̖͍͊ͥͧ̇̅̅͑O̠̲ͥ̑̂̇V̟̩͉̙̣̐̌ͩͦ̈͛̐͘ͅÈ̵̵̻͉̪͈̺̮̜̪͊̾Y̛̖̞̼͈̖͗̄̽ͩͪ̇̊̚Oͥͮͦͧ҉̷̡̳͉͕̥Ȗ̘͙̙̣̫͞Iͪ̓̊̐̋̊҉̤͇͚'̸͎̬̺̍̄̕͢ͅM̪̝̯̜̫͔̈S̜̘͙̪̜̦̝͒͂̔͋̂̈́͡Ô̷͕̮̪̬͕͍̹͊͒̆͆̚S̴̫̹̩̙͖̘̿̃̀ͩ͋C͕̻̻̞̜̮̑̒̈́̐̽ͤ͛ͯ̚͠ͅA̸̘̼̦̤̠͈̼ͬ̋ͥͅR̛͚̱̟͊͆E̸̵̶͙͆̂ͤ̄̾D̞̈̒͌ͪ̔ͤP̨͚̰̠͓̰̺ͬ͛̆̇͐̓̂͜Ļ̲̹̻̮͒ͬ̇ͮ̈̃͛E̲̖͒͠Aͥ̊̓̄́́̒͋͛҉̯̥̩̟͍̹S̷̫̱̻̲ͮ̾͛͆͑͗̚ͅE̠̘̰͓̝͙͚̱͖̽̾̓̄̉ͭ̋̽D̳͇̖̲̙̝̋̑̉ͨ̓̅O͛͛̅͂̆̅҉͚̝̟͓̬N̵̛̠̱̫͓͓̘͖̓ͥ͑̌̇̀̾̓̕'̡̮͇̙͇̫͐̂ͬͥͫ͠ͅT̫̘̟͈̈́͊̓͐͡͞G̮͉̬̰͓ͩ̎͑͗ͭ͗O̴͙̮̹ͭ̀ͧ͌Ị̰ͥͬ͘'̧̭̫͊ͯͨͩ̋ͦͮ͟M̥̱̜͓̗̄̈S̱͚͓͇͔̖ͥͭ̓͐̄O̥͇͎̝̞͍͓̰̅͜ͅS̻̰̭̰̥̣͋̋̾̿̇̊͘C̷͍̲͍͔͖̄̾ͨͯ̇͛ͩ͘A͉̺̤̤̠͇̽͑͆̾̈R̶̫̞̻̱̜̹̜̈́̀̈Ḙ̔̅͐̐ͦ̚̕ͅD̸̛̘̪̣̩̖̲͒̎͊̊͂Ḯͭ͌́͏̶̤͚̤̖̻̗C̦̤͚̫̱̜͐ͦ̍͂̍͠A̴̮̳͎ͥ̐̎͗͘ͅN̜̻͕̩̺͚̼͖̏͑͗̈́̃͋'ͣ̽̽͐̾̾̓҉̛̺̙̬̹̖̯̭̙̳T̸̡͎̣̮̫ͬͥ̐̈́̃́̿͌͢L͍ͫ̍̽ͦͯ͌͟Ở̴̧͈͐ͭ̉͒ͦ̌̚ͅS̙̱̽͊́ͪ̄E̸̙̹͊ͨ͆Yͯ͏̵̷̮̼̮̹̗̟̬̺̰Ó̩̺͙͉̖̌́͊͌̌U̵̩̠̒̈́͐͌̑̂̑̇͞I̢͓̖̥̟ͩ̾͐͑̎̑͐'̡͍̙̖̩̞̳͕̯̳̑ͣ͞M̎̊̋̓ͨ̅͢҉̝͕͉̤̩ͅS̛̻͈͈̐̐O̜͚ͬ̈̽ͫͨͥ̀S̸̡̮̯̭̀͗ͨ͗̃̄̾̿̈C̳̘̮̥͙͔̻̣̆ͣͬ̔̚͞͞A̬̖͔̮̟͚̼͑̐̈͡͝Ȓ̝̗̙͎͕͙͖ͦ̌̈́̆ͦͧ̃͘Ḝ̢̙͉̦̫̂ͩ̎̓D̶͚̬͔̳̐̅̽̀ͩ̍̓̑̚̕ͅĮ͖̩ͧ̈́͋̆Ļ̼̫̪̠̮͇͇͍̀̓͆ͩ̉̀͟O̫͓͋̈ͅV̟̬̲̫̓ͧ͊ͧ̍̌Ẻ̷͔̗̱̞̦͖̓̊̚ͅͅY̡͓̰̪͇̰̩̻ͦͬͪ͊͝ͅO̧͙̗̣͉͑ͫ͗ͫ̕U̷̧̻̮̮̹̪̝̍̕_ **

  
  


Markus pulls his hand back as though he’s been burned, eyes impossibly wide, and the flesh around Simon’s hand snaps back into place as though nothing had ever happened.

 

Simon feels the world fall apart around him.

 

He’s ruined everything.

 

He’d kept his secret for so long and now--

 

_ And now-- _

 

Markus is talking but all Simon can here is the roar of thirium through his ears, an alert message from it in the corner of his vision, and all he wants to do is  _ run--  _ but Markus grabs his hand before Simon can bolt to who-knows-where and now there are lips pressed against his own and--

 

Markus doesn’t hate him.

 

He hasn’t ruined everything.

 

Later, he’ll realize what his leader was saying. What had pulsated back through his fingers. That Markus was scared too. That he was, is, scared for the same reasons.

 

_ That Markus loves him. Loves him too. Loves him back. _

 

Suddenly the world no longer feels like it’s falling apart.


	2. Chapter 2

In a world that is so jagged around its edges this softness feels so foreign. This safety. This warmth. There are moments, several, in which Simon does not believe he has earned this. It feels unwarranted, undeserved, but there’s a constant voice there to remind him otherwise. In moments untouched by the world falling down around them, they have each other, and the silence, and the calm.

 

Androids don’t technically have to sleep-- they only have to go into standby now and then, which in turn leads to Jericho very much lacking in anything close to a bed. The ones upstairs are too decrepit to do anything with, and the further one goes into the belly of the ship the more rooms become function over comfort; boiler rooms, engine rooms.

 

They still make do. Somehow.

 

There’s an old bunk room about halfway between the upper deck and the depths in which Jericho truly resides that isn’t too terrible, and they make it into their hideaway. Their shelter from the storm that constantly threatens to tear them all apart. They become each other’s anchor.

 

They stay interfaced; bare chassis linked together through their tangled fingers, silence between the two of them on the outside but their  _ beings  _ connected to each other in the closest of ways, everything they were and are and will be gently pressing against each other, the warmth they feel amplified and mirrored.

 

The same can be said for where they touch physically as well; so when their lips meet once again Simon feels both his own sensations as well as the ones felt by Markus; simulated breath coming out in warm puffs as they’re exchanged between the two of them.

 

Love. Lust. Love. Lust. Love. Lust. It all spirals together into a beautiful cacophony of white noise, and Simon doesn’t think he ever wants to leave from this spot, pressed so firmly against the one that holds his heart.

 

A sharp pang through his systems,  _ want _ , so incredibly strong and poignant, and it makes his insides shudder. There’s a gasp, a small moan, and the only way Simon can tell it came from him is the difference in pitch between their voices, the inability for his audio processors to  _ not  _ pick up on the differences. Their circuits connected through their fingertips, the pulses flooding through both of their processors, the sheer  _ intensity  _ of the feelings behind them; Simon can feel his biocomponents threaten to start overheating, and yet-- he can’t find it in himself to care, as long as he gets to stay like this.

 

_ I want you,  _ he hears.

  
_ You have me. _


	3. Chapter 3

Something is  _ wrong.  _ Something is terribly, horribly wrong. He can feel it in his core before he can see it; can feel it rattling through his thirium pump and through his non-existent gut. What feels like a never-ending rain of bullets ricochet around them, around those who remain, and the gun in his hands feels so unbelievably heavy. Everything is so overwhelming and yet he must have unrelenting focus over the overload of information flooding his sensors; must stay focused so that they can  _ stay alive,  _ so he can keep even just one more android alive. His leg aches.

 

Something is wrong. Something is wrong and he doesn’t know what.

 

Then he sees it; sees  _ him,  _ sees Markus with his shirt and jacket soaked all the way through with blue blood, all stemming from--

 

Oh god.

 

Oh god.  _ No. _

 

Simon all but drops his rifle as he sprints over to Markus, as he runs a scan, as the weight of the world falls down on his shoulders, in his core.

 

“Markus  **_no--_ ** ,” he chokes, and he can feel tears sting at the back of his eyes. They were put there for the mere simulation of human emotion. He had never wanted to use them. Deviant or not. They spill over his cheeks and he does nothing to remove them, to stop them.

 

His heart is damaged. It's irreparable; especially here. He’s going to--

 

_ He’s going to--- _

 

“You can’t die. You  **_can’t._ ** ”

 

_ I can’t live in a world that you’re not in. _

 

“Simon-”

 

“If you die,” he chokes, and now the tears fall freely from him. “If you die, then-- then all we worked for is for nothing.”

 

_ If you die I’ll be alone. _

 

“Simon, it’s alright,” and his voice is so small, so fragile, divided in two and sounding more and more mechanical, more full of static, with every second. “Jericho will survive. You’ll survive. You’ll be okay. I know you will be.”

 

He wishes Markus’ lies were as beautiful as his eyes, as beautiful as the promises held within them, as beautiful as his voice when it had been just the two of the and he had quietly wished that he could give Simon the world.

 

“Our hearts are compatible,” Simon whispers, absolutely refusing to accept Markus’ proposal; to let him simply  **_die_ ** here. Even though the chaos surges around them it feels as though they're the only two in the world. As if they could be back in their hideaway, tucked away from the inevitable.

 

Markus’ eyes widen, the realization hitting him as soon as the words are out of Simon’s mouth. “Simon  **_no_ ** , you can’t,  **_no---_ ** ” and there are tears falling from his eyes as well now-- even as his systems are shutting down. He tries to reach out to stop Simon’s prying hands, but he’s too weak to do so. 

 

“You have to live,” Simon whispers. One hand comes up to press Markus’ cheek into his palm and he brings their lips together. Softly. Sweetly. Desperately. He channels all the love he feels inside of himself through their connection-- channels all the moments he’s ever had with Markus. The warmth of his heart and the compassion he holds and the safety he’d only ever felt when they were in each other’s arms. 

 

He wants Markus to remember.  _ Needs  _ Markus to remember. Remember what they had. Remember what will always have been.

 

_ I love you. _

 

_ I will always love you. _

 

He snaps Markus’ pump out of its chamber without a word of warning; he can’t bring himself to hear Markus protesting any more with his dying voice.

 

Simon replaces Markus’ heart with his own.

 

He hopes part of him remains. His soul. If androids were even capable keeping such a thing in their artificial hearts.

 

When Markus comes back online it’s with a harsh gasp and a panicked jolt and with Simon on the ground next to him, propped against the debris and the light leaving his eyes.

 

“ **_Simon no----_ ** ” he sobs, and all he can do is retract his skin and press his hand on top of Simon’s, press it to the blond’s chest. “Please don’t go.  _ Please don’t go. _ ”

 

_ I need you by my side. _

 

Simon smiles. Markus thinks he holds the key to the universe behind his eyes.

 

“I’ll be there. Always.”

 

His voice is all but gone. It warbles in and out and is nothing but metallic sound.

 

His systems shut down all together.

 

Markus loses the connection.

 

He grits his teeth together so hard he hears his jaw creak; his shoulders tremble with such ferocity he doesn’t know if the rest of him can bare to move. But he has to. He has to. He has to.

 

For everyone.

 

For Simon.

 

He stands up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, wrestling cannon content out of david cage's shitty hands; perish

**Author's Note:**

> one day i will defeat david cage and his compulsory heterosexual nonsense in hand to hand combat with my grimy little gay hands


End file.
